


Clothes Make The Man

by Sarcastic-Mess (MasterOfDisaster)



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crack, Drunk Steve, Fluff, M/M, Pining, this is so ridiculous I don't even know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:32:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterOfDisaster/pseuds/Sarcastic-Mess
Summary: Write about neighbors where one of them only ever sees the other one in pajamas and then suddenly they're wearing evening attire. ORFour Times Steve saw Clint wearing pajamas and One Time Clint shows up in a suit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!  
> I have no idea if this is remotely coherent, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.  
> This is only beta'd by myself, so be warned.  
> Also, I don't own anything, except my writing, which anyone should be glad not to have.

Steve moved into his apartment, because it was both close to his work and in his price range without being a shithole or pulling every singly penny out of his pocket. After a couple of weeks he grew attached to it and put his stuff away, so that it even looked lived in. It was good.

A week after he had put away his boxes in the back of his closet he met the person living across the hall from him for the first time. It was late evening and Steve was just coming from work in the veterans center. He opened his mail box, even though he didn't expect anything inside of it and was surprised, when the sight of a white envelope actually greeted him. Pulling it out the first thing he noticed was the big red _urgent_ stamp on it and then that it was addressed to a Clint Barton living in 4B.

He could have just thrown it in the right slot, but it was his floor and this way the letter got to his right recipient quicker and he got an excuse to meet his neighbor.

So he walked up the stairs to the fourth floor and knocked on the door with 4B on it and waited, listening to the sounds of someone moving around behind the door, before it was opened.

The person was a guy, a couple of years older than Steve and with messy dark blond hair and eyes coloured so light blue it might as well be called gray. Smaller in height, but nearly as broad with very impressive arms that were only highlighted by the tank top he was wearing. The man was also barefoot and wearing purple black plaid pajama pants. It looked so comfortable Steve just wanted to follow the example and change out of his jeans and plaid shirt himself.

“You're new.” His eyes swept over Steve and it made him tighten his grip on the letter for focus, so that he didn't blush or shuffled his feet under the scrutiny.

“I moved into 4A a couple weeks ago. Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Clint Barton.” A yawn interrupted him and he had to start again. “Sorry. I work nights at the moment.”

“You were sleeping. Oh God, I am so sorry. Here.” He offered him the letter. “It landed in my mail box and I thought it would be better to bring it up, since we live on the same floor, but I didn't want to disturb you.” What a great first impression. Good job.

Clint waved it off. “No biggie. I have to get up around now anyway.” As he took the letter, his fingers brushed Steve's and he would deny any cliche sparks or heat rushing through his body at the contact should anyone ask.

“Thank you. I will see you around, big guy.” Clint winked and then disappeared inside again.

Steve needed to gather himself for a second, before he could pull out his keys to go inside his own apartment. He would go over the rest of his evening and push all thoughts of ridiculous bed head, winks and delicious arms away, because he wasn't a teenager anymore and he was better than to fantasize over his neighbor he didn't even really know.

~*~

The next time Steve saw Clint was two days later, again when he came back from work. This time he was even later, because Sam had held him back to try and talk him into a drink, but Steve had remained unswayed. It was Thursday. They could go out Friday when they both didn't have to work on Saturday.

He entered the building and was immediately greeted by a dog. Tail wagging from side to side with impressive speed, the golden dog jumped back and forth in front of him, tongue lolling excitedly out of his mouth. His left eye was missing and his right ear had definitely seen better days, but the dog was still full of energy.

Chuckling Steve went down onto one knee and started petting the dog which he took gracefully and made a sound that was definitely happy.

“He likes you.”

Steve looked up so quickly he accidentally hit the dog on the noise. “Oh, I am so sorry.” Gently he rubbed over the spot with one hand, while the other scratched between its ears.

“Don't worry. He had worse.” Clint Barton stepped beside them and Steve quickly got back to his feet so that he wasn't on knees in front of him. He didn't need to know what that felt like.

“That's not really a good measurement.”

“True.” Clint was wearing shoes this time, boots to be exact, but the rest of him was similar to their first meeting. Instead of the last outfit though, he was wearing gray sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt. His hair was as messy as before, but the tired circles under his eyes had lessened.

“You got up on your own today.” Steve wanted to hit himself over the head. What was wrong with him?”

“I did.” A smirk pulled at Clint's lips and curse him, was it attractive. “I am a grown man, no matter what anyone else says.”

A whine caused both of them to look down and encounter the dog's pleading look that could melt ice.

“Gotta go. When Lucky is getting whiney, I need to find a tree fast. See you later, big guy.” He and his dog, Lucky, were out of the door faster than Steve could say _bye._

Shaking his head at himself he went up to his apartment, thinking over the conversation and berating himself for being so witless. He wasn't a teenager anymore whose mind went blank when he saw a pretty boy or girl.

As he unlocked his door, he promised himself to be more eloquent the next time he saw Clint and maybe even flirt back, if that is what Clint had been doing. Steve was never good in those things.

~*~

Steve didn't see Clint on Friday or for the whole weekend. They had different schedules. It happened. There was no reason for him to look towards Clint's door every time he came or went from his apartment. Okay, maybe he was a little infatuated with his neighbor who he seemed to only catch just out of bed. It was fine.

On Wednesday Sam gave him a stern look over lunch. “Okay, tell me. Who is it?”

“What?” Steve's eyes widened, before he quickly looked down at his salad. “I don't know what you are talking about.”

“You're a terrible liar. Your general mood dropped with every day and I know that look. You're pining. Who is it?”

“I am not pining”, Steve disagreed firmly and stabbed his fork into a piece of tomato maybe a little to aggressively. “I don't even know him, really.”

Sam made a sound of triumph. “So there is someone.”

Groaning Steve buried his face in the palms of his hands, until he was poked by what felt like the back of a fork.

“Come on, it can't be that bad. You have excellent taste.”

Steve glared at him, but then leaned back with a sigh, letting his hands fall down. “His name is Clint and he lives down the hall. He works nights and I only saw him twice. He's... He is good looking.”

“Good looking?”, Sam repeated skeptically. “That can't be all. Good looks alone never frazzled you.”

“You haven't seen him. His smile is always really bright and even when he is teasing, it's genuine. And his arms are... There are no words for his arms, Sam. Oh, and he has a dog. It's adorable. Its left eye is missing and its ear is torn, but it was so happy.” Steve could feel himself smile dopey only by thinking of them.

“Wow, you got it bad.” Sam was laughing at him and Steve threw a piece of bread at him and ignored any further remarks about Clint.

~*~

On Thursday he came home mentally and physically exhausted. Yawning he trudged up the stairs, kind of angry that he had made a pact with himself to not ever use the elevator.

One of the veterans had experienced an episode toward the end of Steve's day and they had to subdue him, before he was able to hurt others or himself. To make it worse Sam had sprained his ankle earlier in the day and Steve had to take over the physical therapy for the day.

He would blame all that for the fact that he didn't realize that he wasn't alone when he arrived on his floor. His fingers were fumbling the keys and his eyes were slowly closing on their own. The keys landed on the ground and he rested his forehead against the wood of his door. Only for a few seconds.

A warm arm wrapped itself around Steve's waist, while there was shoulders under his left arm.

Steve was pretty sure he mumbled something as he forced his eyes to open again and look what was happening.

It was Clint, unlocking the door with what looked like Steve's keys. When did he get those?

“Clint?”

“Yeah. You look asleep on your feet. I am just going to get you to bed, then I'll be out of here again. I promise not to steal any of your stuff.” He practically carried Steve inside and to his bedroom. He would definitely marvel at his strength later.

“Know you wouldn't anyway”, Steve tried to say, but it probably came out as a garbled mess.

Clint chuckled and then deposited Steve on his bed and laid him down on his bed. It was a good view, having Clint above him. Especially in that tank top and those comfortable looking purple plaid pajama pants. Steve liked those.

Clint looked like he was holding back a big grin. “Alright, big guy. Sleep well.”

“G' Night”, Steve replied, but he was already drifting off to sleep.

~*~

The next morning when he woke up feeling completely refreshed, it took him only a second to remember what had happened the night before. Groaning Steve hid his face under his pillow and forced himself not to think about it, but the image of Clint on his bed, above him, coupled with the phantom feeling of him pressing against Steve as he had helped him, wouldn't leave him.

He only forced himself to get out of his shell, when his alarm announced that it was time for him to get up and ready for work. Sighing he sat up and swung his feet off the mattress, before he froze looking down on himself. He remembered last night clearly and he couldn't find a single moment, where he had partially undressed himself. His shoes were standing at the foot of his bed and the jeans and his plaid shirt was laying folded on the usually empty chair in the corner. He was only wearing his undershirt, boxers and socks. Clint must have undressed him, when Steve was already dead to the world.

This time he couldn't stop a fierce blush warming his face and he quickly got up and went into the bathroom. He shouldn't think about Clint undressing him or Clint in his bed or in any other capacity that was not friendly and neighborly. But then the image of Clint, smiling at him as he deposited Steve on the bed, appeared in his head and Steve leaned his forehead against the tile wall, as his heart squeezed almost painfully.

He was screwed.

~*~

Friday evening Steve went out with Sam for a drink, which quickly became several and with Steve's inability to hold his alcohol he was quickly drunk.

“Like, he is so nice. And... And gorgeous. His arms, Sam. They are not for show. He is strong, too. Can lift me up on his own.”

“He carried you?”, Sam asked bemused. He was annoyingly sober and Steve's subconscious tried to tell him that his friend would hold this over his head until the end of time. Steve ignored it.

“So easily, too. Was so tired yesterday and he got me in my bed with no problem. Looks so good above me. Oh, and those pajamas. He is always wearin' pajamas. Always see him out of bed. With that hair. I just want to grab him and...” His mood dropped suddenly and he looked down into his drink sullenly. “Why doesn't he like me, Sam?”

“Okay, you have had enough.” Sam took away his drink and Steve didn't even want to protest. He didn't care about that stupid drink. He cared about stupid Clint with his stupid smile and his stupid hair and his stupid eyes and his stupid arms.

“Alright. I got it. Clint is stupid and you're in love with him.” Sam grabbed Steve's arms and hoisted him up.

“You think he likes me? He probably already has a gorgeous boyfriend or girlfriend. He is way out of my league. Why do I always do this to myself, Sam?” He clung to his friend, needing the physical contact, especially as he tried to hold back tears.

“How about I get you home and than you can ask him yourself, huh? He lives next door, doesn't he?”

“Shouldn't bother him.” Steve was put in the passenger seat of Sam's car and leaned his temple against the cool window, before closing his eyes.

“Steve, you really like this guy. You should go for it and if he says no, he isn't worth it.”

“Wrong”, Steve told him firmly. Sam was so wrong. He didn't even know Clint, didn't know what job he had or what he liked to do with his days off, but Steve was intrigued and he could say with certainty that he already was way over his head.

The door opened and Steve nearly fell out of the car, had Sam not caught him.

“Come on, we're here.” Chuckling Sam helped him onto his feet and over the sidewalk to his apartment building. Steve must have lost time, if they were already there.

They tumbled inside and towards the elevator, though Steve tried to protest and lead him towards the stairs, but Sam was clearly superior in this moment, so Steve resigned himself to a broken pact.

On the fourth floor Steve immediately honed in on the door with the _4B_ sign and before Sam could do anything more than make a surprised sound at Steve's sudden ability to walk straight again, Steve had already knocked on it.

“I thought we shouldn't bother him”, Sam remarked with a smirk, but Steve couldn't concentrate on him. There was noise on the other side of the door and Steve started to sway again on the spot. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe Clint had someone over for his Friday night. Maybe he didn't even want to see Steve again, after what happened last night. Maybe...

The door opened and all doubts left Steve's thoughts. The sight of Clint with messy hair and only wearing those purple pajama pants caused a wide grin to appear on Steve's face.

“Hey”, he greeted and Clint raised his eyebrows, looking at him amused.

“Hey. ” He looked over where Sam was standing. “What's up?”

“I'm Sam, Steve's friend. Drove him here after he told me everything about you.”

Steve should be concerned about that, but it made Clint smile and Steve couldn't be bothered.

“Clint. Are you drunk, Steve?” He leaned against the door frame, muscles tensing in different places and Steve lost his train of thought.

“Steve?”

He blinked, swayed a little and looked up at Clint's face. “What?”

“Are you drunk?” Clint was chuckling and so was Sam. Steve didn't understand, so he ignored it, but he also didn't know the answer to the question, so he turned to Sam.

“Am I drunk?”

Sam looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Yes, buddy, you're drunk. Wasn't there a reason you wanted to talk to Clint?”

“Oh, right.” Steve brightened. Sam was the best friend in the whole world. He turned back to Clint who looked at him expectantly.

“You're stupid”, he announced proudly and Clint blinked, before he straightened up and away from the frame. His expression closed off and his shoulders tensed, as if he was being attacked. Steve frowned.

“Steve.” Sam looked serious all of a sudden and his tone matched the one he always used to placate aggressive veterans. “I know it's hard, but use different and most of all more words.”

Steve couldn't see why, but he did it for Sam. So he turned back to Clint who looked like he had stepped back a bit.

“You're stupid”, he repeated, because there was nothing wrong with that statement, but Sam had said to use more words. Maybe the two didn't understand and wanted Steve to explain. He could do that. “Your smile. Your hair. Your arms. Your feet. Those pajama pants. The nickname you gave me. Helping me into my bed. Undressing me. Your abs. They are all stupid.” He felt pretty proud of himself for explaining it so expertly.

Sam was chuckling again, while Clint looked confused.

“Steve, do you mean that Clint makes you stupid, because you got a crush on him?”, Sam asked and Steve threw him an irritated look.

“I just said that.”

This time it was both Sam and Clint who broke into laughter, while Steve looked at them confused.

“He was never good with words, even sober”, Sam told Clint who smiled fondly, when they had calmed down enough. Steve had crossed his arms over his chest and was not pouting, no matter what anyone else said.

“It's adorable.” Clint stepped forward and suddenly Steve was pulled forward and arms wrapped around his shoulders. Automatically his hands landed on Clint's hips and he buried his face at Clint's neck.

There was a chuckle somewhere and Steve hummed, while he basked in Clint's warmth and feel of him. He smelled even better than he had imagined. All he wanted to do was to take Clint to bed and...

“Okay. That's enough.” Sam grabbed Steve's arm and pulled him away from Clint. “I do not need to hear that, alright? Let's get you to bed.” Sam also said something to Clint, but Steve didn't hear it over the whine that escaped his mouth against his will.

Resigned Steve let Sam manhandle him into his own apartment and to his bedroom, where Steve managed to undress himself this time, even if he fumbled a little, because his fingers weren't cooperating. When he finally was down to his underwear he curled up under his blanket and fell asleep with a stupid grin.

~*~

The smell of fried oil woke him up and Steve glared at the air for the slight headache he was sporting. What had he been thinking? He knew what alcohol did to him, but had done it anyway.

He forced himself to his feet and into some sweatpants, before he slowly stumbled into the kitchen, finding Sam cooking something.

“Morning, sunshine.” He was grinning and Steve glared at his cheerfulness. “Don't be like that. I cooked breakfast.” He transferred whatever he was cooking onto two plates and put them on the table.

The sight of bacon, eggs and perfectly browned toast made Steve's mouth water and he quickly sat down to start on the food.

“So, that was Clint, huh?”

Steve closed his eyes for a brief second, wishing this wasn't happening, but he was hungry, so couldn't do that long.

“Seems like a cool dude.” Sam looked at him expectantly, but then shrugged, when Steve didn't answer. “You don't want to talk about it? Fine. What about the fundraiser tonight?”

This time Steve let his forehead meet the table top with a groan. “I totally forgot about that.” His voice was raspy. “Do I have to go?” He refused to call his tone a whine.

“Yes, you have to go. You know that.”

Sighing Steve concentrated on his food again. At least the fundraiser would distract him from thinking about Clint and how much he had humiliated himself the day before.

~*~

Forcing another smile Steve excused himself from the couple of woman who had stopped him on the way to get a drink and had practically accosted him to small talk, which he already wasn't good at.

He stepped besides Sam who offered him a big glass of water which he took gratefully, before he downed half of it in one go.

“Stop that”, Sam admonished and pushed Steve's hands away from trying to fumble with his tie and collar.

“I feel like I am suffocating.”

“That's just you. The air is good and your suit is still crisp. Stop worrying.” Sam gave him an encouraging smile. “This evening is going to worth everything your putting up with right now.”

“What does that even mean?”

Sam had made comments like that the whole day. They were proclaiming a great conclusion to the evening, but whenever Steve had asked he had ignored it, evaded it or simply just smiled irritatingly.

This time he smiled and let his eyes sweep over the room sipping from his own glass of water. His smile widened to a grin because of whatever he spotted. “Finally.” Without further explanation he took away Steve's glass and turned him, so that he was facing the crowds.

Steve wanted to admonish him, because he was not in the mood for whatever game Sam was playing, but then his eyes fell on a single figure making his way trough the crowd towards him.

The usually messy hair was combed in order and his outfit consisting of pajamas was switched out for a proper, very nice fitting suit. The pants and the jacket were black and the shirt was a simple white. He wasn't wearing a tie, letting the v his collar created frame his exposed throat and an inch of chest. Clint looked even more sinful than when he had been half naked.

Steve could only stare as Clint approached him with a small smile and a swagger to his step that made Steve's mouth water.

“Hey”, Clint greeted him, his hands now in his pants' pocket and Steve had to swallow, before he could even attempt to speak.

“Hey”. He still sounded breathless. “How... What are you doing here?”

“Well.” Clint shifted his weight onto his left leg. “Your friend Sam told me about this, after he put your drunk ass to bed.”

Steve blushed at the reminder and under Clint's smirk. “I am so sorry about that. First you help me getting into my apartment and then you have to deal with me drunk. What I said...”

“So you remember everything?”, Clint interrupted with a look Steve could only describe as anxious. “Did you mean any of it?”

“I did, but it doesn't have to be a big deal. We're neighbors, but we didn't come across each other that often. I will leave you alone. You didn't have to trouble yourself to come here.”

Clint huffed, after a few seconds of silence. “Damn, I thought you were exaggerating, but I really make you stupid.” He stepped forward and grabbed Steve's tie as leverage to pull him closer. “Coming here didn't trouble me. Your crush on me doesn't trouble me. It actually benefits me.” There was the smirk again and Steve had to swallow again. The proximity to Clint made him even warmer than before and his fingers itched to mess up his hair.

“Do you mind getting out of here?”, Steve asked, even though he knew he shouldn't. It would be moving too fast and he actually should stay a bit more for the money, but with Clint so close and accepting Steve's feelings, if not reciprocating them, Steve couldn't help himself.

A brilliant smile appeared on Clint's lips and Steve's heart skipped a beat.

“I'd love to.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the lack of kissing or even smut, but sometimes sex just doesn't seem to appear on the pages as easily.  
> But [Look at this fancy thing that is my tumblr.](https://sarcasticmesswriting.tumblr.com)


End file.
